"Row ahead!" Crouch shouted to his men. "Row for all you're worth! That bomb has misfired, or I'm a Prussian. We'll save the stowaway yet."
A few more strong strokes of the oars, and the boat drew alongside the foot of the gangway steps. Crouch, agile as a panther, sprang on to the footboard, and racing to the main-deck, came on a sudden face to face with Jimmy.
"Come off!" he cried. "There's no time to spare."
Jimmy Burke could not refrain from smiling.
"It's all right," said he in a quiet voice. "It's all right; the ship's saved. There is no danger any longer."
Crouch, catching his breath, stared at the boy in amazement.
"Saved!" he repeated.
"Yes. The bomb has been thrown overboard. I stayed on board to do it."
For at least a minute, Captain Crouch uttered never a word. Then, quietly, without any show of haste, he took his pipe from his pocket, filled it, struck a match and lit it, and puffed a cloud of smoke into the air.
"I've known many men," said he at last, "and I've seen most parts of the world. I was first introduced to danger--if I might call it so--when I was little more than a lad, and we've kept up a nodding acquaintance ever since. I've known different kinds of danger, too--all the family relations, so to speak: jungle fever, malaria, cholera and Black Jack; lions, tigers, rogue-elephants and buffalo, and the last's an ugly customer when he's wounded--you may take my word for that; I've seen war, shipwreck, cannibals, pygmies and sudden death; and I've known men who could hold their own in the midst of the whole boiling lot. But I've never seen, or heard, or read of, a finer thing, my boy, than you have done to-night. I say that because I mean it; and there's a hand to shake."